The Ghost of You
by racefh853629
Summary: CSICSI:Miami crossover, set during Seasons 7 and 5 respectively. His presence still lingers, and won't leave Greg alone.
1. Prologue

A/N: I don't own CSI, CSI:Miami, or any other known entity comprised in this story. The story begins with the death scene in "Lost Son" (Miami 3.1), then jumps to Fannysmackin' (CSI 7.4). The story remains on that time period (Season 7). I adjust a few time things here and there, and I'll let you know when they come up. Until then, I hope you enjoy. :) Please review.

* * *

The Ghost of You- Prologue_Miami, 2004_

Tim Speedle and Horatio Caine entered the jewelry shop, finding Rudy waiting for them. As Horatio talked to Rudy, Speed looked around, growing uncomfortable with his surroundings as he did so. His hand immediately flinched to his gun, grabbing Horatio's attention. Horatio scanned the shop as well, and a back door opened. "Speed!" Horatio exclaimed, drawing his gun. The guy from the door shot at them, and Horatio returned fire. Speed's gun jammed, and he paused, looking at it. As he did, a bullet entered his chest, ripping into the pleural cavity and dropping him to the ground. Horatio shot the first shooter before focusing on the second as he ran away. He dropped down next to Speed, radioing for help. "You're going to be okay, Speed," he said softly to his CSI as he tried to apply pressure to his wound. "You're going to be okay." Speed tried to talk, but words wouldn't come at the moment, just blood.

"I can't feel anything," he finally choked out. Horatio wiped away the blood that came out with Speed's words, trying to keep it together for the sake of his fallen friend.

"Hang in there. Keep breathing." Speed choked on blood again, breathing becoming increasingly difficult.

"Can't…fight…" Speed's entire body convulsed before it fell still, the life sucked out of it. And just like that, he was gone.

* * *

_Las Vegas, 2006… Present_

Greg drives to the scene of the robbery, a liquor store, by himself. Today has been his day, with trial going so well and now, he gets to solo a crime scene. As he passes an alley, he hears shouting and strained noises coming from within. Looking over, he sees a gang of people jumping a man. He stops his car, grabbing his radio quickly. He calls in the situation, fear and panic growing in him as the victim gets pummeled. After being told to wait for backup, he sighs, watching as the attack continues. Realizing the man might not last until backup arrives, he switches the car into gear, driving into the alley with his headlights on, lights flashing, and honking his horn. The gang ignores him, and he feels fear rising still.

"Move!" he tells them, beeping his horn and wailing his siren. The group finally notices him, and most scatter, leaving behind one kid. "Get out of here!" The kid remains, still beating the victim as Greg stops, honking his horn again. Finally, he looks at Greg, his eyes glowing in the headlights. Greg doesn't move, barely breathes, wondering what this kid will do next. When he bends down for a rock, Greg still doesn't move. The kid fakes toward the victim, as if he was going to beat him further, before rushing toward Greg. In a split second moment of panic, Greg punches the gas, and the SUV lurches forward, hitting the kid and dropping him to the ground. Greg stops, remaining still.

The back window shatters, followed by the driver's side window. Hands reach inside the vehicle, dragging Greg out. The gang returns, using Greg as their new punching bag, laughing maniacally as they do. Greg struggles in an attempt to get away, but the group overpowers him, beating him senseless. One guy spits on him, and he scratches his ankle. He watches as the gang leaves, crashing into his SUV in the process. He averts his eyes to the sky, holding still and praying someone arrives soon, before he or the initial victim dies.

* * *

Greg keeps his eyes closed, laying silently in the hospital. Sleep wouldn't come, not after seeing Marla James crying over the body of her dead son. The young man Greg had hit with the car. He sighs softly, trying to push the image out of his head. "It's never going to work," a man's voice says. Greg jumps, opening his good eye to find someone he has never seen before standing in his room.

"Who the hell are you?" he asks, panicked, his heart beating out of his chest.

"Oh, relax, Sanders. I can't hurt you." The man walks over, putting his hand on top of Greg's. To Greg's horror, the hand passes right through his own.

"What the fuck?"

"You really need to chill out, man."

"Who are you?"

"More like 'who was I'. I am dead, after all."

"Would you just answer the friggen question without the mouth work?"

"Tim Speedle. I was a CSI for Miami-Dade."

"What the hell are you doing here? With me?"

"I don't know. I was up there, and now I'm here. I don't ask questions. It's better off that way."

"So, you're a ghost." Greg's heart rate returns to normal.

"Something like that."

"Did I summon you or something? Is that why you're here?"

"I don't know. Did you?"

"I didn't know you when you were alive."

"Catherine and Warrick met me. That case with the little girl and the husband/wife serial."

"Right. I remember that case." Speed nods. "So, you're dead."

"Yep."

"How long have you been dead?"

"Two years, give or take a few months."

"How'd you die?"

"Gun jammed in a shoot-out. Perp shot me."

"Why'd the gun jam?"

"Dunno. Calleigh couldn't figure it out."

"Who's Calleigh?" Speed arches his eyebrows in surprise for a moment before shaking his head.

"Oh, right, you don't know her. She was a girl I worked with out there. Calleigh Duquesne, otherwise known as 'Bullet Girl'. She's amazing."

"Right." Greg shakes his head, closing his good eye. "I'm going crazy."

"No you're not."

"Then why are you here and how can I see you?"

"I don't know. I've been wandering around for a while."

"You said you came from up there," Greg reminds him.

"Ah, but you never asked up where," Speed replies cryptically. Greg sighs, rolling his eyes.

"I'm playing 20 Questions with a ghost."

"Can you stop saying shit like that, man? I don't like being reminded that I'm dead."

"Fine. Where were you wandering?"

"Northern part of the country. No one could see me, though. I wonder why you can."

"Probably the same reason you knew who I was and could read my mind."

"Nah, that's just CSI skills. I checked the door and read the look on your face." Greg snorts, shaking his head.

"A resourceful spirit. That better, or that still a reminder?" Speed shrugs, sitting on Greg's good side. Yet, Greg realizes, as Speed sat down, the bed didn't move.

"You'd think after two years of being dead, I'd be okay with it. I guess that because I've finally found someone who can see and hear me, I feel alive again."

"Do you have unfinished business? Is this going to be like that movie with Reese Witherspoon?"

"Which one?"

"The one where she's in a coma and Napoleon Dynamite is the medium kinda guy."

"I don't think it can be. I'm dead. I'm not just going to magically spring back to life."

"Then how come you're in Vegas with me?"

"Maybe you need me."

"Why would I need you?" Speed shrugs.

"Need who?" Sara asks, her voice cutting into Greg's perception quickly. Greg looks at her, then looks back where Speed is sitting.

"She can't see me," Speed says. "So, play wisely."

"No one," Greg replies. "I'm just tired."

"Nice move, Slick."

"Will you shut up?"

"Who?" Nick asks, looking concerned.

"The voices in my head," Greg cracks with a chuckle. Speed laughs along with Warrick, Sara, and Nick, enjoying Greg's lie. "How's it goin'?"

"Well, we caught the guys that did this to you," Sara tells him, smiling.

"That's good."

"And we brought you food."

"That's even better."

"Mmm… Mexican," Speed says. Greg casts a glance in his direction, something that doesn't go unnoticed by three of Vegas's finest. "Sorry, haven't had any in a while. Don't need to eat when you're dead."

"Thanks, guys," Greg says, ignoring Speed.

"Well played, man. Well played."

"How ya feelin'?" Warrick asks, dropping into a chair beside Greg's bed. Nick follows suit, and Sara sits on Greg's bed by his feet.

"Sore, but better," Greg replies. "Physically, anyway. I, uh, heard about…"

"Don't worry about it now," Sara tells him.

"You did the right thing," Nick assures him.

"Just worry about getting yourself better first," Warrick says.

"The rest'll fall into place," Sara adds. Greg nods, eating the food in silence with Sara, who also ordered food. Nick and Warrick sit with them, talking while the ghost of Tim Speedle watches. He slips out of the room, looking to the sky as he stands in the middle of the hallway.

"Is this what I've been waiting down here for?" he asks. No answer. Not that he had expected one. He had been asking the sky questions for two years, trying to figure out why he still hadn't crossed over. "Am I here to help him? Is it the other way around? What's going to happen now?" He looks back in the room as Grissom and Catherine join the rest of the team, checking on their injured comrade. "What's going to happen now?" he whispers.


	2. Chapter 1

A/N: Okay, second chapter... I don't own CSI, CSI:Miami, CBS, or any other known entity. If you've read my story, Golden, this is a slight take on that. Also, it's important to remember that throughout the entire part where Nick comes in, he cannot see, hear, or sense Speed's presence in any way. Enjoy, and please review.

* * *

Chapter 1 

Greg sighs, sitting back on his couch with a half-drained bottle of whiskey. Speed watches in almost silence from the corner of the room, sighing occasionally. "You know, drinking isn't gonna make things better," he tells the young man before him. Greg shrugs.

"Don't care," he replies, taking a drink.

"Why not?"

"You ever kill someone, Speed?"

"Yeah, in self defense. Just like you did."

"How do you know if it was just like I did? You weren't haunting me then."

"Dude, come on. I know the story from everyone else, not to mention you having to tell that Ecklie-ass what happened. I was there, man. I heard the whole thing. I actually haven't left your side since I appeared."

"Whatever. Hey, do you think if I get drunk enough, this will all actually become real?" Speed shakes his head, frowning.

"Dude, this is real. I'm here, right in front of you, right in front of your face." Speed stands, walking toward Greg. "You can see me. I'm right here with you."

"But you're dead. You're a spirit, you're not actually human."

"I was human. I was here. My body's dead, yeah, I get that. But does the fact that I'm a spirit make me no longer human?"

"I don't know. I'm fucking drunk." Greg takes another long drink from the bottle in his hand.

"Besides," Speed continues. "That's only a minor technicality."

"No, no, it's not 'only a minor technicality'!" Greg shouts. "You're fucking dead, man! As in, body in the grave, not coming back to life. Yet, despite this, I can see you. Do you know what that's like for me? Do you have any idea? I'm like a crazier, older version of that kid in the Sixth Sense. I see you, and you're dead, and no one would ever believe me if I told them I was seeing a guy that died two years ago!"

"So?"

"So- Are you listening to me? I'm fucking going crazy!"

"You're not going crazy. You're just drinking."

"Drunk or sober, you're still here! This isn't just a 'Greg's drunk and seeing dead people' thing. This is a 'Greg's being haunted by a dead person and also happens to be currently getting drunk' thing."

"Chill out, bro."

"When you leave me alone, I will!"

"I can't do that."

"Why not? All you have to do is disappear like you appeared."

"I can't do that," Speed repeats.

"Why not?"

"I've tried, Greg. I've been trying. I'm stuck here with you." Greg groans, taking a long drink and feeling the whiskey burn down his scratchy throat. Speed sighs softly. "Dude, slow down. You're gonna get alcohol poisoning, and I can't dial the phone 'cuz I'm dead."

"Well, if I join you, at least it won't seem so crazy that I'm seeing you."

"Come on, Greg. You don't mean that." Greg glances over at Speed's transparent figure with glazed over eyes.

"How do you know?" Speed sighs.

"Think about your friends," he reasons with the drunk man. "How would Nick and Warrick feel if you died? Or Catherine and Sara? Grissom? Your parents?"

"Eh," Greg replies, drinking. "They'll get over it."

"Dude, you have no idea what it's like to watch the ones you love try to move on after you've died. Especially when they watched you die. It's fucking hell, dude. It sucks, worse than the shit you're dealing with right now."

"How the fuck would you know? Has it ever fucking happened to you? You ever turned the wrong fucking population of Miami against you?" Speed sighs. _Drunk men are so unreasonable_, he thinks.

"No," he admits finally.

"Then how the hell would you fucking know what I'm going through and that what's happened with you is worse?" Speed sits on the table in front of Greg, causing Greg to question if that table would actually hold the weight of Speed were Speed actually alive.

"Because right now, you're scared, and that's understandable. You just pissed off a group of the wrong people in the wrong town, so it's normal that you'd be scared. But you have to realize that this is going to pass. Your fear will pass. You feel guilty because you killed someone, but that'll pass too. And when it does, you'll realize how much you still have left to live for. You still have your friends, your family, and your colleagues. You're alive. You have a future. You'll get to keep making wonderful memories and positive impacts on people's lives. You'll have the life you've always wanted.

"Me?" Speed continues. "I'm dead. I'm always going to be dead, because there's no coming back. I'll never get to have a wife and kids. I'll never get to be Delko's best man. I'll never see Calleigh get married and have kids. And that sucks, man. That hurts like fucking hell." Speed sighs, and Greg looks down, frowning. "And it's not even like I'm up there and I can do whatever and watch whoever or any other idea of Heaven that's floating around. I'm stuck in this eternal purgatory here, doomed almost to walk around as a lonely spirit. What am I supposed to do?"

"I don't know," Greg says quietly, hoarsely. "I don't know what you should do."

"I don't either." Speed sighs, shaking his head. "Who's counseling who, here?" Greg shrugs, taking a long drink. "You still should stop drinking."

"Go back to psychoanalyzing yourself." Speed groans.

"You're worse to talk to than Calleigh when she's in one of her stubborn PMS moods."

"Should I take that as a complement or a reason to keep going?" Not waiting for a response, Greg downs the rest of the bottle as Speed sighs deeply.

"I really fucking hate you, dude." Greg shrugs.

"Join the club. I hear they hold their meetings on Thursdays at 9." He slumps further into the couch, and Speed's figure moves again, now beside Greg. In his drunken state, Greg feels Speed's presence beside him, causing him to jump.

"You need to stop this, dude," Speed says. "Before you hurt yourself or someone else."

"I'm not gonna hurt anyone else," Greg slurs in response. "How come I can feel you now?"

"Because you're drunk. You've lost real control of your limbs, so you can feel me too. But that's something completely different."

"So, you're more real to me now because I'm closer to dying?"

"Unfortunately, yes, but in your case, it's temporary."

"Ha, not if I drank enough to kill myself." Speed shakes his head.

"Don't even say that, man, okay? That's not what's happened. And if it is, I will kill your ass time and time again in the afterlife, you understand?"

"What's done is done, Speed. Can't change that now." A knock on the door interrupts their argument and causes them to look over at the apartment entrance.

"Greg?" Nick calls through the door.

"Answer it," Speed says. Greg sighs.

"I don't want to," Greg replies.

"Why not?"

"Because."

"Because why?"

"He's only here because he feels sorry for me. I don't want his sympathy."

"Dude, he's here to help you. Just answer the damn door." Greg stands, obeying Speed for reasons unbeknownst to him, and begins to make his way toward the door. In his drunken state, he misjudges the edge of the couch, and trips over the arm, smashing things to the floor.

"Greg?" Nick calls again through the door, more panicked than previously. "Greg, you okay?" Greg stands again, making it to the door and opening it.

"M'fine," he replies, falling against Nick. Speed shakes his head.

"Yeah, sure you are, pal," he mutters.

"You don't look fine," Nick says, leading Greg to the couch.

"I'll be fine," Greg says.

"How much did you drink tonight?"

"Bottle."

"Bottle of what?"

"Alcohol."

"No shit, Sherlock," Speed says, rolling his eyes.

"I didn't like him," Greg says, looking at Speed.

"Didn't like who?" Nick asks, confused. Greg turns back to him.

"Sherlock."

"Who said anything about Sherlock?"

"He did." Greg points to where Speed has taken residence on the coffee table once again. Nick looks over and sees nothing, while Greg sees Speed shaking his head.

"Hey, Drunk Ass," Speed says. "He can't see me."

"He can't?" Greg asks.

"Remember, you were flipping out about this earlier."

"Oh, right."

"Who are you talking to?" Nick asks, more perplexed than previously.

"Tim Speedle," Greg replies. Nick's confusion remains as he stares at Greg.

"Who's that?"

"More like who was that. He's dead."

"Dead? As in, a ghost?"

"No, dead as in a zombie. He's there, and I can feel him, and I can see him."

"You're fucking wasted, bro," Speed says. Greg giggles.

"Hehe, yeah," he replies.

"Greg?" Nick asks, confused.

"Whassup?"

"You're really drunk, and I'm worried."

"Why?"

"I think you've over-done it."

"Why?"

"Well, because you're supposedly seeing someone who's dead."

"Hey, I heard that," Speed says. "Oh, wait, you can't see me. I gotta work on that. Hey, do you think we can go to a medium? Prove I'm actually here?"

"Maybe," Greg says, looking at Speed. "Although, he might still not believe me."

"What?" Nick asks.

"I'm talking to the dead guy you can't see or hear."

"You're so nonchalant," Speed says.

"Well, what else am I supposed to be?" Greg asks. "Freakin' out? Maybe I could lie about it, but what good'll it do me? He already thinks I'm wasted."

"You are wasted. A chimp with half a brain could tell you that."

"Can we find one? Maybe it could see you too." Speed shrugs.

"Who knows. I doubt it, though. I was serious about the medium thing."

"I think we'll have to go some other time. I'm not feeling so good right now."

"You gonna puke?" Nick and Speed ask together.

"Whoa, surround sound," Greg says. "Nah, I just think I'm gonna go night night."

"Greg, let's get you to a hospital," Nick says.

"You should go," Speed agrees.

"I hate hospitals," Greg slurs.

"Yeah, but dude, you're pretty bad. We went over this already."

"Will you come with me?"

"I already told you, I have no choice."

"I'm gonna take you, buddy," Nick says.

"Okay, cool," Greg says, standing and leaning against Nick as they left Greg's apartment with Speed close behind.


	3. Chapter 2

A/N: I do not own CSI, CSI: Miami, CBS, or the characters of the shows. In this chapter, Greg goes back to work, and Speed's right there with him. This chapter's slightly more humorous, and there are a few new revelations, so please enjoy and review. :)

* * *

Chapter 2

Speed hovers through the door of the Las Vegas Crime Lab as Greg opens the door after him. "That's badass," Speed says, smiling. "I always wondered whether or not I could do that."

"In two years of being dead and being down here, you never tried it?" Greg asks, looking his direction.

"Nah, never really felt like it. It's only cool if someone can watch you do it." Greg laughs.

"Dude, you're strange."

"I was worse when I was alive."

"Really? I wish I would've been able to see it."

"Yeah, that'd have been cool." Nick walks up to them, putting his arm around Greg's shoulders.

"Welcome back, man," he says. Greg smiles.

"Thanks," he replies. "Hey, uh, I'm sorry about the other night…"

"Don't mention it. Grissom needs to see you."

"Yeah, I figured." Greg walks down the hall with Nick toward Grissom's office while Speed tags along behind.

"Hey, I have a question, though."

"Okay."

"Were you bullshitting about that guy? The ghost?" Greg froze momentarily.

"I told you about that?"

"Yeah."

"Oh. Well, what would you think if I wasn't bullshitting?"

"Nothing, really. I know your grandmother was into the occult and could contact the spirits and stuff, because you told me. And I guess it'd be proof to your family that you got that from her." Greg nods, chuckling.

"Right. Nah, I wasn't kidding. He's still here, right now."

"And I'm about to start hitting on your lab tech, because she can't hear me," Speed says, winking.

"You never mind," Greg replies, glancing at him.

"What'd he say?" Nick asks.

"That he's gonna start hitting on the lab tech."

"Which one?"

"He didn't say."

"The pretty one," Speed says.

"I got a pretty one for you to hit on," Greg tells him. "Find your way into the Trace lab."

"Okay." Speed wanders off, and Nick looks at Greg.

"He go?" he asks.

"Yep," Greg replies.

"If he were alive, he'd probably kill you for that."

"What do I care? He can't hurt me. He's dead." Nick laughs. "Thanks for believing me."

"It's not that much of a stretch, considering it's you."

"Yeah, but still. I was afraid no one would believe me. Speed said we should go to a medium and see if they could prove I'm seeing him."

"Might not be a bad idea. No disputing it, I guess."

"I don't know. Some people would still dispute it." Greg reaches Grissom's office, walking in. "Hey, Grissom," he says softly. Grissom looks up from the paperwork on his desk to find Nick and Greg in his office.

"Welcome back, Greg," he tells his employee. Nick excuses himself, walking away.

"Thank you."

"Have you completed your counseling?"

"Yes."

"Good. Until the coroner's inquest has passed, you're going to be working in the lab."

"Yes, sir. In DNA?"

"Yes."

"Okay. What about after the inquest?"

"You'll be back in the field, unless they happen to rule that your actions were criminal, which probably won't happen. Don't worry right now, Greg. Just take things slowly."

"Yes, sir."

"And know that you can come in here any time you want and talk to me, okay?" Greg nods, growing apprehensive. "About anything. I mean it."

"Well, actually, now that you mention it, I think there's something I should probably tell you about…"

* * *

Speed walks into the Trace lab, finding Hodges immersed in his work. He looks around the lab, finding no one else in there. He groans loudly, cursing Greg for lying to him. He flings his arm out, knocking over an empty beaker. He stops, and Hodges looks over at the shattered beaker in confusion. "Since when can I touch, hold, and knock things over?" he asks aloud.

"How did that fall?" Hodges asks as Bobby Dawson walks in.

"Everything okay in here?" he asks.

"Yeah, fine. A beaker fell."

"How?"

"I don't know. I was over here the whole time." Speed stands still, knowing the two men can't see him, but also wondering since when could he feel things and touch things.

"I'm dead," he says aloud. "How in the fuck did I do that? Am I supposed to be able to touch things? Does this make me closer to crossing over? What the fuck is going on?" Speed walks out into the hallway, slapping the doorjamb along the way. Hodges and Bobby turn at the sound, looking first at the doorjamb and then at each other.

"Did you hear that?" Bobby asks.

"Yeah," Hodges says. "What was that?"

"I don't know."

* * *

Greg walks into the DNA lab, smiling at Wendy. She looks up at him and groans. "They stuck you on lab duty with me?" she asks. He nods, smiling. "Great."

"Oh, come on," he says. "You love me."

"Just sit down and shut up."

"Yes ma'am." He sits on a stool, folding his hands together as she walks around. "Need any help?"

"No, not yet. It's between shifts, and I'm just finishing this up for Kristina." He nods as Speed walks in, looking confused.

"Greg, I don't know what's happening to me," he says. Greg gives him a questioning look without talking. "I just knocked over a beaker in the Trace lab. I've never been able to touch things and knock them over. Why can I all of a sudden? Because you see me? Because more than just you know I exist? What's going on?" Greg shrugs, glancing briefly at Wendy before looking back at Speed. Speed looks at Wendy before nodding his understanding. "She doesn't know I'm here." Greg shakes his head. "Yet you're still gesturing to me, so that must mean she's not really paying any attention to you anyway." Greg nods. "Right. Okay, so, I'll just chill here in the corner quietly and wonder how in the fucking world I got to the point where I can actually start knocking shit over. Because that's just weird. I mean, I spent two years wandering around, and no one could see me, no one could hear me, and I couldn't feel or touch shit."

"Hey Greg, can you hand me the methlyene blue?" Wendy asks. Greg obliges silently.

"And now that I'm here in Vegas, it's like everything's completely different. Someone sees me, and I can touch shit, I can knock shit over. I can do a lot of stuff I couldn't do before. How in the fuck did this happen? Is it because you see me? Because Nick believed you when you said I existed? Is it just something totally, completely random? What the fuck is going on?" He sighs as Greg reaches for a blank sheet of paper and a pen.

"Grissom knows about you too," he writes. "And so does my therapist." Speed reads his writing and sighs.

"And they both believed you?" Greg nods. "They didn't think you were crazy." Greg shook his head. "Wait, I knew that about the therapist. I was there. He kept saying there was a weird energy in the room, and you told him that it was the obnoxious ghost who would leave you alone. You asshole." Greg shrugs, and Mandy comes into the lab.

"Greg!" she says, hugging him. "I'm glad you're okay."

"Thanks, Mandy," he says softly.

"She fucking crazy?" Speed asks. Greg rolls his eyes.

"How are you doing?" she asks, concerned.

"I'm doing alright," Greg tells her honestly as Wendy continues to ignore everyone else in the lab.

"That's good. I was really worried about you."

"Liar," Wendy retorts.

"I'm not lying," Mandy defends. Wendy looks over at Greg.

"She just wants to get in your pants."

"Oh, like you don't."

"See, she didn't deny it."

"Neither did she!"

"Dude, you could hit both of them," Speed says, looking at Greg. Greg shakes his head.

"Ladies, please," he says. "I'm not worth fighting over."

"Yeah, I agree. Man, if I was alive, I'd be something worth fighting over for ya'll." Greg glances at Speed. "What?"

"Something worth fighting over?" he writes down while Wendy goes back to work and Mandy talks about how she's glad Greg's still alive.

"I am, bro. I used to get so much action. I was a very popular man down in Miami."

"Yeah, okay." Greg turns back to Mandy, smiling softly as she continues talking. He nods when appropriate while Speed sits on the stool next to him.

"Hey, Greg, did I tell you that I can now knock shit over? That's just fucking crazy. I never used to be able to do anything like that, and now, all of a sudden, it's like I'm alive again. I don't understand, Greg. Why?"

"I don't have the answer for you," Greg writes down.

"What'cha writing?" Mandy asks, curiously peeking at the paper.

"Nothing," Greg says aloud. "Just some notes to myself." She nods slowly.

"Right. Well, I should get back to work. Welcome back, Greg."

"Thanks. I'll see you later, Mandy."

"Later, Greg. Wendy." Wendy nods her acknowledgement as Mandy leaves the lab.

"Love that girl to death, but she's trying to smother you," Wendy points out to Greg. He laughs.

"Ya think?" he replies playfully.

"I love her, though."

"She's great. She just needs to take a step back a bit."

"Exactly." Wendy walks past Greg, casually noting the few lines he had scribbled down on the paper. "So, notes to self, huh?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Dude, she totally scoped out the paper," Speed says. "You're so busted."

"'I don't have the answer for you' is a note to yourself?" she asks.

"I started writing a story in my off time," Greg says. "I was just working out some dialogue in my head."

"That looks like a very one sided conversation."

"Character's on the phone. Someone else is watching him."

"Dude, you seriously should write fiction," Speed says. "You're good at this."

"Right," Wendy says, not believing him.

"What?" Greg asks.

"You don't write fiction. You can't write."

"You shouldn't be spying on my stuff in the first place. And secondly, I'm a pretty good writer, thank you very much."

"Yeah, right, Greg. You couldn't even write your way out of a paper bag."

"Sure I can. Watch." Greg writes 'your way out of a paper bag' on the piece of paper in front of him, causing Speed to laugh and Wendy to roll her eyes.

"Cute, Greg." She walks away and out of the lab while he smiles.

"I think she thinks you're crazy," Speed tells him.

"Who doesn't?" Greg replies nonchalantly with a shrug.

"I'm serious, dude."

"Maybe I am. You're sitting here with me."

"You're into the occult. You're psychic. It's not a stretch that you'd be able to see me, or that I'd be here."

"You've been listening to Nick too much."

"Which one's Nick?"

"The guy that was there the night I got drunk."

"Oh, right. Him. I guess he's right then."

"Maybe. We'll see." Greg sighs, stretching while Speed watches him quietly.

"You have an amazing support base around here, bro."

"Yeah, I know. I just don't know how supportive they'll be when they find out I'm being stalked by a resourceful spirit. Or when they find out that these skills stick with us even in the afterlife." Speed chuckles.

"But you'll be a hit at parties with me around."

"Dude, I'm already a hit at the parties without you."

"But with me, you're unstoppable."

"You're nuts." He laughs.

"You've already mentioned that, Greg."

"Doesn't make it any less true."

"Right. Anyway…" Before Speed can finish that thought, Wendy walks back in, and the night's shift begins.


	4. Chapter 3

A/N: I do not own CSI, CSI:Miami, CBS, or any other known entity. This particular chapter goes along with the episode "Post Mortem", so spoiler warning for that. I think that's all. Enjoy, and please review. :)

* * *

Chapter 3

Greg sits in the coroner's inquest, listening to his heroic actions of the other night be turned into a criminal case. The longer he sits listening to it, the worse he feels, and the more that he thinks that he should be incarcerated for what he did. He sighs, taking the break during court to go to the bathroom. Speed appears behind him. "How you holdin' up, Chief?" he asks. Greg shakes his head.

"I'll be surprised if they don't rule criminal," he replies. Speed shakes his head.

"You didn't do anything wrong."

"Tell them that!"

"I can't. I'm dead."

"Speed, seriously. I'm listening to these people tear me apart, call me a bad CSI, an even worse person, and a murderer. I didn't kill him on purpose, but no one fucking cares. I only wanted to stop him from hurting the guy. That's it. And now… they're right. I am a fucking murderer." Speed shakes his head.

"You're not a murderer."

"I killed someone."

"In self-defense. You were scared for the victim. You tried to save the victim, and Demitrius didn't get the clue. When he lunged at you, you freaked even more, and hit him. It was an accident."

"It was vehicular manslaughter." Aaron James appears in the doorway, and Greg washes his face.

"How tough you feel when you're not in your big SUV, huh?" he asks Greg. Greg doesn't respond, staring in the mirror at Aaron. "Hey, I asked you a question, killer." Greg looks at Aaron as another man walks into the room.

"Excuse me," he says, walking between them. Aaron slips out the door as the man starts washing his hands. Greg sighs deeply, and the man glances over at him. "Ignore it," he says to the stressed, young man.

"Excuse me?" Greg asks, not really hearing him. Speed watches in curiosity from the corner of the room.

"Whatever that kid said to you, ignore it. You did what you had to do."

"I'm sorry. Who are you?"

"Michael Langston. I work in the courthouse." Greg nods.

"Right. I've seen you before."

"Yeah."

"Mr. Langston, I appreciate your support, but…"

"Yeah, I know. Don't let it get you down, Mr. Sanders. You're one of the finest in the city."

"Thanks." Michael walks out, and Speed shakes his head.

"That guy's a little weird, huh?" he says. Greg shrugs.

"I don't know what to think," he said honestly.

"You say anything, he could turn that against you in an instant."

"Which is why I didn't say anything."

"I know. Smart move."

"Thank you." Greg sighs, looking at Speed. "Time to go back to the slaughter."

"It's not gonna be that bad," Speed says.

"Yeah, right." Greg leaves the bathroom, going back and sitting in the courtroom. Speed follows, sitting beside Greg. "What are you doing?" he whispers after making sure there's no one around to hear him.

"I'm sitting with you. Relax, cowpoke. No one can see me, and you're about to testify. You need me here." Greg nods slowly, and Speed smiles. "Just relax, hombre." Greg sighs as court resumes. His testimony rolls around, and gets beaten and torn apart like every other testimony put forth that day. After the somewhat massacre, he sits, and the jury goes into deliberations. Speed pats Greg's knee gently. "You don't have to say anything, just listen," he says. "You did a good job. Mr. Langston was right. You are one of the finest CSIs in the city, and you did an amazing job. I can honestly tell you that if I were in your position, I would've done the same exact thing. We don't seem to have as many overzealous political people in our department in Miami, but I can honestly tell you that me, Delko, Calleigh, and H- we all woulda done the same thing you did. You saved an innocent man's life. That's the important part here. You saved a man's life.

"I know you're thinking, 'save one, kill another,'" Speed continues. "But the man you killed was a criminal. He was hanging out with the wrong crowd if he's such a great student. He should've known better. People have a tendency to glorify the dead, especially in the immediate aftermath of their passing and if they were a family member. Mom may never understand and recognize that her son really was a criminal. That's okay. It's her right to glorify her son. But you have to remember that as good of a student and a person he may have been, he was in the wrong place with the wrong people at the wrong time. You did what was necessary to save a man's life. That's all that matters.

"Right and wrong are all relative terms. What's right for you isn't what's right for someone else. But what's wrong is beating up random people on the street just because you have absolutely nothing better to do with your time and life. It's ridiculous and asinine. Those kids were going around, beating people up, just because they couldn't find any other way to amuse themselves. Thousands of possibilities of what to do in Vegas, and they decide to be unlawful and become murderers. Demitrius James was rollin' with a crew of murderers that night, even if he wasn't participating with them. He was an accessory after the fact, at best.

"He had a rock. He was going to kill you. And honestly, if he had the chance, he would've. He was trying to kill Stanley Tanner, until you came along. You saved Stanley's life. No matter what the jury says or sees, you did nothing wrong. If you had ignored the situation, you're as responsible for Stanley's death as the mob. Failure to confront is giving silent consent, you know.

"You called for back up, and you went in to save Stanley's life. If Demitrius had left with the rest of the mob, you wouldn't have had to hit him. If he didn't come after you, you wouldn't have had to hit him. The only thing you could've done otherwise was back up out of the alley with Demitrius chasing you. And what good does that do? You back up and get out of there, he goes back to beating Stanley Tanner. You did the only thing you could do. If the jury doesn't see that, they're a bunch of fucking morons. And if you don't see that, I'm going to kick your fucking ass, because I can." Greg smiles, chuckling softly. "Don't you wish I could've testified here for you?" Greg nods slightly. "This is how I won a lot of cases, and even more dates." Greg didn't respond as the jury walked back in.

"I understand the jury has reached a verdict?" the judge says.

"We have, Your Honor," a female juror says. "We, the jury in this inquest, find the death of Demitrius James excusable." Greg sighs, thankful not to hear them find that the death criminal. Speed groans.

"That's fucking bullshit," he says loudly. Greg doesn't respond as the DA leans over during her own rant.

"See, 'excusable' is a lawful act with no intention to kill," she explains. "'Justifiable' means that the action was the only alternative. That's what they should have found."

"It's okay," Greg says. "I think they got it right." She shakes her head as Speed jumps in.

"No, they didn't, Greg," he says. "It's a justifiable case." Greg walks away, finding a quiet spot for the moment.

"You said yourself, I had an alternative."

"That's the only fucking thing you took out of my speech? That you had another choice? Come on, dude. You had no other choice." Greg shrugs.

"It's okay. Let's get out of here." Speed sighs, nodding.

"Fine, whatever." They leave the courthouse and make their way through the media hoopla quietly and as quickly as possible. Greg drops by CSI, poking his head into Grissom's office.

"Hey, boss, unless you need me for something, I'm gonna take off," he says quietly. Grissom nods.

"Yeah," Grissom says. "Take off that suit too." Greg nods, starting to walk out. "And Greg?" Greg turns, looking back at him. "You did a good job."

"I'm glad you think so." He leaves, sighing heavily as Speed continues to follow him. They reach the parking lot, where a man confronts them. He hands Greg some papers.

"You got served," he says, walking away. Aaron speeds his car past Greg, who sighs. Speed puts his hand on Greg's shoulder.

"This is harassment, bro," he says softly. Greg shrugs.

"This is part of Vegas," he informs the former CSI. Speed shakes his head.

"I don't think so, man. That's harassment."

"Call it whatever you want. I just want to go home."

"Yeah, okay. Let's go home." Greg chuckles.

"You make it sound like you're the one that's going to be driving us and stuff." Speed laughs.

"I probably would be if I was still alive."

"Nah. I think that if you were still alive, you wouldn't be here. You'd be in Miami with your friends."

"Probably." The pair walks to Greg's car, with Speed sliding through the door. "I can still do that, even though I can feel stuff and be felt."

"Who said I could feel you?" Greg asks, climbing in before Speed can play with the door locks repeatedly.

"You did, and you spoiled all my fun," Speed says.

"Yeah, well I'm not in the mood."

"You sound like my ex-wife."

"You were married?"

"No, but I've always wanted to say that because H can." Greg shakes his head. "You should take a trip out there sometime and meet them."

"I just might. We all know I could use the vacation." Speed chuckles.

"Yeah, so could I. It's a full time job trying to keep you from killing yourself, you know?"

"Maybe that's why you're still here."

"But I still don't understand."

"Neither do I, really. I'm just throwing that out there."

"I did good in my life. Why can't I just go?"

"I don't know, dude. I can't answer that." Greg fell silent, driving, while Speed watched the roadway closely.

"I don't want to be dead," Speed says finally. Greg glances over at him quickly. "I mean, it's not bad. You don't have to worry about eating, drinking, sleeping, showering. But after a while, you even start to miss the things you hated, like balancing your checkbook and stuff. It sucks. I just wish I could go back to being alive. I would pay to get my ass kicked by some punk ass hobos, just to feel something again." Greg sighs softly.

"I wish there was something I could do," Greg says.

"I would love to just be able to talk to Horatio and Calleigh and Delko one more time." Greg nods, silent for a moment. "I worry about them. I can't watch them from my current position, and I don't know if I'll ever get out of here."

"I'm sure you will."

"You got a crystal ball?"

"You already know I'm a psychic. Why are you doubting me?" Speed chuckles.

"Good point," he says.

"I know," Greg says, yawning. Speed turned to face the front out the windshield.

"Tired?"

"Extremely. I'm glad Grissom didn't need me today."

"Yeah, that's good." They reach Greg's apartment, silently walking up the stairs. Greg opens the door, dropping his keys and taking off his suit. He drops onto the couch in his boxers, closing his eyes. He falls asleep within seconds, and Speed smiles to himself. He covers Greg up with the blanket before taking his normal spot in the corner of the room, just quietly watching the younger man sleep. He sighs softly, wondering how much longer he would have to stay there. As much as he likes hanging out with Greg, he wonders if this will be the norm for Greg while he's there, where Greg's life just spirals worse and worse and all Speed can do is try to convince the kid that living is a lot better than being dead when at this rate, he doesn't exactly believe that either.


	5. Chapter 4

A/N: I don't own CSI, CSI:Miami, CBS, or any other known entity. This is the second to last chapter, and the duo is heading to Miami. I hope you enjoy it, and please review.

* * *

Chapter 4

Greg sighs, stretching as he stands up after the plane landed. Speed jumps up excitedly, banging into the seat in front of him kinda loudly. Greg covers quickly as a few people look over. "Sorry," Speed says. Greg shrugs, not saying anything. "I've gotta stop talking to you in the presence of others. They'll all think you're crazy." Greg doesn't answer as he exits the plane, grabbing his bags from baggage claim and walking over to the rental car agent's desk. He picks up the keys to their car, and they find it in the lot. They climb in, and Greg turns to Speed.

"We can either go to the hotel, or we can see your friends first," he says. Speed shrugs.

"Doesn't matter to me. They're all probably working, so maybe we should check in first, and then go harass them."

"Fair enough." Greg drives to the hotel and checks in. He drops his bags off in the room, and Speed follows.

"This is a nice place. How'd you afford it?"

"My mom. She wanted me to take a nice break from everything."

"Your mom sounds amazing."

"She is." Greg stretches out for a minute on the bed, smiling. "This bed's so comfortable."

"That's good." Both are quiet for a moment, with Greg relaxing on the bed with his eyes closed and Speed at the table in the corner. Finally, Greg pops up and looks at Speed.

"What am I supposed to say to them?" he asks his invisible comrade. Speed shrugs.

"Ask them how they're doing, introduce yourself, talk about me."

"Will they believe me?"

"Maybe. I don't know. Can't hurt to try, though." Greg nods, standing.

"Let's do this." Speed follows him out, and the two make their way to the Miami-Dade Police Station. They walk up to the receptionist, who smiles warmly at Greg.

"She's new," Speed comments.

"How can I help you?" she asks Greg.

"I'm looking for, uh, Lieutenant Caine, Calleigh Duquense, or Eric Delko," Greg says. The pair watches as she pales at the last name.

"What's your name?" Greg pulled out his ID, showing her as he talked.

"Greg Sanders. I work with the Las Vegas Crime Lab, but I need to talk to them on a personal level."

"Uh, they've just stepped out. I can give you Lieutenant Caine's pager number, though." Greg shrugs.

"Okay, great. Thank you." She hands him a piece of paper, and he wishes her a good day before leaving. He pages the number, sitting down on the steps of the lab outside in the warm Florida sun. Speed sits down next to him, sighing.

"Something doesn't feel right, Greg," he says softly.

"What do you mean?" Greg asks.

"They don't say we've 'just stepped out' unless we don't want to be found. And they give pager numbers so we can respond when we want. Something's wrong."

"You're paranoid."

"I'm not paranoid. It's a gut feeling."

"You don't have guts."

"Metaphorically speaking, asshole." Greg's cell phone rings, and he looks at the display to find a number he didn't recognize. Figuring it was Horatio, he answers.

"Sanders," he says into the phone.

"Mr. Sanders, you paged me," Horatio says clearly.

"Yes, I did. Thank you for answering me so quickly, Lieutenant Caine."

"Sure. What's going on?"

"I have a matter of personal concern that I would like to discuss with you, Calleigh Duquense, and Eric Delko. Your receptionist told me to page you, though."

"Who are you, again?"

"Greg Sanders. I'm a CSI with the Las Vegas Crime Lab, but I'm not here on business." He hears Horatio sigh softly.

"Mr. Sanders, why don't you come down to Miami Hospital? We both have some explaining to do."

"Yes sir. Thank you."

"No problem, son. I'll meet you in the lobby."

"Sure." Greg hangs up, looking at Speed. "He's gonna meet us in the lobby," Greg says.

"What lobby?" Speed replies.

"Miami Hospital."

"Oh, no."

"What?"

"This is bad."

"He could be with a victim."

"Yeah, either Calleigh or Delko."

"Mr. Paranoia, let's go." They walk to the car, climbing in and making their way to the hospital. They walk into the lobby, and Speed nudges Greg.

"Right there," he says, pointing at a tall red head. Greg walks over to the man.

"Lieutenant Caine?" he asks, holding up his ID. "Greg Sanders."

"Mr. Sanders," Horatio says, extending his hand. Greg shakes it firmly. "I've heard a lot about you. What brings you here to Miami?"

"Part vacation, part something else."

"What is this something else?"

"It'd really be best for me to tell the three of you all at once."

"Slight problem with that. You see, Eric was shot a few days ago. Doctors say he's going to pull through, but he's not awake yet." Speed audibly gasps, clutching his stomach. Greg realizes that if he was till alive, he'd probably be ready to puke. Greg sighs softly.

"I'm very sorry." Horatio nods, saying nothing as Calleigh comes up to them.

"H," she says. "He's waking up." She finally notices Greg and stops.

"Calleigh, this is Greg Sanders," Horatio says. "He's from the Las Vegas Crime Lab."

"That Greg Sanders?"

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" Greg asks warily.

"It's not bad," she tells him. "I would've done the same thing as you."

"Told you," Speed whispers.

"What brings you here to Miami?"

"I have something to tell you guys," he begins. "But you might not believe me."

"What makes you say that?" she asks.

"Because it kind of takes a stretch of the imagination."

"Try us."

"Well, I'm being followed."

"By who?"

"Tim Speedle." Calleigh and Horatio looked at each other, confused and not believing Greg. "I know, it's a stretch, but he hasn't left me alone since I was in the hospital. I swear, I'd never heard of him until he showed up, and I'm not making this up."

"Prove it."

"Okay. Hey, Speed, go ring the bell at information." Speed nods, walking away and ringing the bell. Greg looks at the two CSIs before him.

"Ask H how Yelina's doing," Speed says finally, walking back over. Greg nods.

"He wants to know how Yelina's doing… whoever that is," Greg says. Horatio looks at Calleigh, then back to Greg.

"She's doing fine," he says. "As is Alexx, Speed."

"Good to know," Speed says, smiling softly. Alexx walks up to the trio in the lobby.

"Believe me?" Greg asks. Horatio and Calleigh nod.

"Believe him about what?" Alexx asks.

"She needs a hug," Speed says. Greg looks over at him.

"Speed's been following him around for a few months," Horatio tells her.

"Our Speed?" Alexx asks, shocked.

"The one and only."

"How?"

"My grandmother was a psychic, and knew a lot about the occult," Greg begins. "My family believed that I had inherited her powers. I never thought about it, and then after I get into some trouble, there was Speed."

"You make it sound like we're dating," Speed says.

"Yeah, well, you're always around, you live with me, you watch me sleep. We might as well be."

"Except that I'm dead."

"Even you said so yourself, that's only a minor technicality."

"I didn't think you'd remember that. You were fucking tanked that night."

"I have relatively decent drunk memory. At any rate…"

"What exactly was that conversation about?" Calleigh asks skeptically.

"Speed said that I make it sound like him and I are dating," Greg tells her. "Which lead to me reminding him of something he said when I was drunk, but anyway."

"Right." Calleigh moves closer to Greg, leaning into him. "Where is he standing?" she whispers.

"Right next to Lieutenant Caine," Greg replies, just as quietly. "He's gonna try and mess up his hair." She smiles as she watches Horatio's hair get mussed by the invisible spirit. Horatio shakes his head and Alexx smiles.

"If there was any doubt that it's Speed, that just proved it," Horatio says. Greg smiles.

"Good job, Speed," Greg retorts. Speed shrugs.

"I try," he replies.

"Let's head upstairs and see Eric," Horatio says. "Mr. Sanders, you're welcome to join us."

"Okay," Greg replies. The group migrates upstairs, talking to Greg about life in Vegas and how the civil suit was going. Greg tells them that he doesn't know what's going on with that, but he can't wait until it's over and behind him. The group agrees as they reach Eric's room. Horatio walks in, and the rest wait, giving him some time alone with Eric. After twenty minutes, he opens the door, allowing everyone else to walk in. Eric smiles at his group of visitors before looking at Greg in confusion.

"Who are you?" he asks.

"I'm Greg Sanders," Greg tells him. "I'm from the Las Vegas Crime Lab." Eric nods, looking at the space next to Greg. The space occupied by Speed. Greg looks between Speed and Eric as no one speaks.

"See something, Eric?" Alexx asks.

"Speed," he says. Speed smiles.

"Can you hear me too?" Speed asks.

"Yes. Oh, my God."

"That makes two of you."

"Speed's been following me around for a little while," Greg explains. "He felt we had to come to Miami, so here we are."

"How are you?" Speed asks.

"I'll be okay," Eric replies. "I miss you. Wait, I see you. Does that make me crazy?" He looks at Calleigh, Horatio, and Alexx.

"Well, we know he's there," Horatio says.

"So no," Alexx says, smiling. Eric clears his throat.

"Good," he whispers hoarsely. They get him a drink of water, and he thanks them before looking back at Speed. "So, you're really here."

"Yes," Speed says.

"I don't understand. Why? How?"

"I don't know. I can't figure that out either. Greg and I have been trying for months, and we've come up with nothing." Greg nods, silent. The group continues to talk until they get paged back to work.


	6. Epilogue

A/N: I don't own anything you recognize, including (but not limited to) CSI, CSI:Miami, and CBS. As my Christmas present to all of you, I give you the final chapter. I hope you enjoyed the story, and I hope you enjoy this installment. Merry Christmas to all those who celebrate it. :)

* * *

Epilogue 

_Greg and Speed sit in Greg's living room, facing each other silently. Speed has a small half-smile on his face, while Greg looks confused. "I don't get it," he asks._

"_What it boils down to is that I'm leaving," Speed explains. Greg nods._

"_And the twenty minute ramble of confusion was for…?"_

"_Something for you to remember me by."_

"_Speed, I'll always remember you." Speed shrugs, saying nothing. "I still don't get it, though. You were stuck down here for years. Why now?"_

"_I don't know. I guess I was still here to help you all along, but you don't need me now. And I got closure with H, Delko, and Calleigh. Which, by the way, thank you for helping me with that."_

"_No problem. You'd been helping me out a lot, so I figured I'd help you."_

"_I appreciate it." The pair falls silent, looking at one another._

"_So, this is goodbye?" Greg asks._

"_Yeah, kinda," Speed replies._

"_It's kinda weird. You've been that annoyance I couldn't get rid of, and now, it's like losing a friend."_

"_I'll always be with you, Greg. Just as I'll always be with H, Calleigh, and Delko. I'm crossing over, now, so I'll be watching you and yelling at you when you think no one's there." Greg smiles._

_"Yeah."_

_"I'll catch you on the flip side." And with those words, Speed walks away, fading into Greg's wall and disappearing for good.

* * *

_

Greg jumps awake, looking at the sterile walls of the hospital around him. He takes a few deep breaths, trying to figure out how he got there. Were the past few months all just a dream? Sara chuckles, looking at him. "Welcome back to the land of the living," she says softly. He furrows his brow.

"Where am I?" he asks.

"The hospital."

"What happened?"

"I'd rather not talk about it." He looks at her, realizing that he's in her hospital room, not his. Reality sets in, and he remembers why they're sitting there.

"Right. I'm sorry." She smiles softly.

"It's okay. What had you so freaked out?"

"I had the weirdest dream."

"Really? What of?"

"Well, Speed was saying goodbye, and then I woke up here, thinking that none of the past few months happened." She nods.

"He said goodbye?" Greg sighs, nodding.

"Yeah." He looks around the room, not seeing Speed anywhere within the room.

"Is he here now?"

"No. Well, not directly." Greg feels a weight on his shoulder, something he knows is Speed's hand. Sara nods.

"So, he's gone," she says. Greg nods.

"Yeah, he's gone," he replies.

"Sad?" He chuckles.

"It'll be nice to not have to worry about him hanging on my shoulder anymore." She smiles.

"Yeah."

"I wish I'd have known him when I was alive, though."

"Uh, Greg. You are alive."

"Right. I meant when he was alive." She smiles, nodding.

"Yeah."

"So, how are you feeling?"

* * *

Speed smiles, looking down on the two of them talking. Michael Keppler walks up to him, glancing at them. "You know them?" he asks. Speed looks at Keppler. 

"Yeah, kinda," he replies.

"What do you mean, kinda?"

"Well, I kinda met them in death. I'm from Miami." Keppler nods. "And for the past… almost year, I've been with Greg."

"Right. I heard about him being enchanted." Speed laughs.

"Enchanted?"

"Better than haunted." Speed shrugs.

"Whatever. I remember you from down there, too. You and your reverse forensics."

"I would've gotten away with it too, if it weren't for those meddling kids." Speed laughs.

"I kept telling Greg you were up to no good." Keppler shrugs.

"Touché."

"I also kept telling him you were gonna get with Catherine." Keppler chuckles, smiling. "You didn't last long enough, though."

"No, I didn't." The two men fall silent, watching Greg and Sara talk. Keppler looks over at Speed, who's smiling fondly at them. "You miss him already, huh?" Speed shrugs.

"He's a good kid, and an amazing CSI. He has a fantastic support base. He never really needed me in the first place, so it was like hanging out with a kid brother."

"Yeah, it is." They fall silent again for a few minutes before Keppler bids Speed goodbye. He walks away, and Speed watches him before turning back to Greg and Sara. He watches the rest of the team join them, smiling to himself.

"Good luck, kid," he whispers. "I'll be watching."

The End.

* * *

A/N2: Please review, and have a wonderful holiday season. :) 


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